Page 81 of Bar Down

"For not getting suspended." Another kiss. "For coming back here instead of hiding out." A third. "For being you."

Marcus cupped her face in his hands. "I should punch people more often."

She smacked his arm. "Don't even joke. This week has taken ten years off my life."

"Reed's gone. For good. League made sure of it."

"I know. Westfield called me right after your meeting." She took the sandwich he offered. "Did he tell you about the consulting?"

"Yeah. I said I'd think about it."

Stephanie unwrapped her sandwich. "And?"

"And I don't know. Analytics was always something I did because it helped me understand the game better. Not sure I want to turn it into a second job."

She nodded, taking a bite. "Makes sense."

They ate in silence for a few minutes, sitting close enough that their shoulders touched. Outside, snow had started falling again, coating Toronto in a fresh layer of white. It was almost too perfect—the kind of scene that belonged in someone else's life.

"So what now?" Marcus asked finally.

Stephanie tilted her head. "What do you mean?"

"Us. This. Everything."

"Well," she said, setting down her sandwich, "professionally speaking, we need to rebuild some trust with the ownership group. I've got a whole PR strategy—"

"I'm not asking about PR strategies."

She smiled. "I know."

"We've been in crisis mode since the day we met. First the ownership change, then the blackmail, now Reed's final meltdown." Marcus shifted to face her. "What happens when there's no crisis? When it's just us?"

Stephanie reached for his hand, tracing a pattern across his palm with her thumb. "Are you asking if I only want drama in my life?"

"I'm asking if we work without it."

She laughed softly. "Marcus, do you know what I want more than anything right now?"

"What?"

"Boring. I want weeks of boring. Months of it. I want predictable mornings and routine practices and scheduled press conferences that go exactly according to plan."

"Sounds terrible," he joked.

"It sounds like heaven." She squeezed his hand. "And I want it with you."

Marcus pulled her closer. "I can do boring."

"Can you?" She raised an eyebrow. "Mr. Analytics who watches game film until two in the morning, and spends road trips plotting defensive zone coverage?"

"That's not dramatic. That's focused."

"It's intensely you. And I love it."

Marcus felt like he could fly. How did he get so lucky? "I've been looking at real estate listings."

The abrupt change made her blink. "What?"

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